Rebound
by kate98
Summary: Seriously fluffy SJ ship piece. Sam exhibits strange behavior after breaking up with Pete. PG13 for several suggestive references. Nothing explicit, unless you mean explicitly fluffy.
1. I want you

_Disclaimer: If you need one, this is clearly the first fan fiction story you've ever read. In that event, stop right now, because 1.) it is addictive, and 2.) this isn't among the best of 'em._

_A/N: Why don't they have a category called fluff? _

_For this one, I'm blaming Rabbit. Not that it's her fault, but I'm blaming her. She said something about a story where Sam messes with Jack's head, and this was my attempt at it. Somehow, it turned from that original promising idea to some **really silly** J/S fluff.

* * *

_

**REBOUND**

This whole situation was her own fault.

Sam didn't know what she expected. But when she broke her engagement with Pete, she expected something. Sympathy, sarcasm, _something_ – at least some slight reduction of the distance the General had put between them. She knew she had hurt him, but they had always been friends first. They had always been there for each other.

So, she began to push. It wasn't conscious, really. She knew she was pushing his buttons; she just refused to look at the reasons why. Anger was an emotion, and she needed an emotion from him. She probably took it a little too far by calling him old.

He had ignored her at the time, and carried on with the briefing of SG teams 1 and 12. She thought she'd gotten away with it. As she left the room, he fell in step behind her. "I may be old," he grumbled softly, but not quite quietly enough to go unheard by the group around them, "but I could still whip you, Colonel."

Taking the opening to push 'too far' just a little further, she raised a suggestive eyebrow at him. "Whip me, Sir?"

Instead of making him uncomfortable, she found she'd walked right into his setup. "Sorry, Colonel," he said in the same loud whisper. "I didn't mean to turn you on." Chuckles broke out among the men behind her, and despite herself she felt the blush rising. He was going to pay.

Making the General pay was not an easy proposition. There was very little you could do to seriously unsettle him. He was a man with few weaknesses. Of course, Sam realized, there was one weakness that all men shared, and she had a feeling she was still in a position to take particular advantage of his. She formulated a plan that ranged from subliminal warfare to full-scale verbal assault.

She attacked at every opportunity.

_In her lab:_

"Carter, what are you still doing here?"  
"What about you, Sir? We're both late. We should be slipping into bed right now."

_In the commissary:_

"What are you pouting about, Carter?"  
"Don't you think I should be able to get whipped cream all over if that's what I want?"

_In the 'gate room:_

"Get cleaned up and meet for debriefing in half an hour, Colonel."  
"If you're only giving me half an hour, you may have to debrief me in the showers. I'm very dirty."

_In the elevators:_

"No, Sir. You misheard me. I clearly said I was going down _with_ you."

Carter ambushed him at every opportunity. Some of her tactics were subtle, like playing with the buttons of her blouse while he spoke to her. Some, such as interrupting the General's table-tennis match with Teal'c to tell him he had a way with a paddle, were less than subtle, if not quite direct. Yet, that stubborn man was showing no signs of letting it get to him. What was the point of all her effort if he wasn't suffering? Could it be that he no longer found her attractive?

* * *

General O'Neill was sure the showers were going to run out of _cold_ water for once. He had personally taken enough icy showers in the last five days to drain a small lake. Carter was out of control, and he was barely hanging on to the tattered remains of his. _Rebound_, he told himself, _she's on the rebound_. And he knew better than to go near that situation with a ten-foot pole in one hand and a zat in the other. 

He liked it better when she was antagonistic. He'd understood that. She was angry about the failed relationship and looking to take it out on someone. He could handle that. Hell, he'd lashed out at her enough times over the years that he actually _deserved_ it – it was his duty to take it. But this...

He could pinpoint the moment when things changed. Sam pushed too far, provoking him publicly during a briefing. Jack pushed back, an off-color remark simply meant to embarrass her. Unfortunately, it didn't have the desired effect. Angry, aggressive Sam suddenly turned into relentlessly seductive Sam. Jack didn't know what to do with that.

Under any other circumstances, he knew exactly what he'd do. The day he learned she'd accepted Pete's proposal, he made a decision. If, by some fluke, he ever had a chance with her again, he was going to take it – regulations be damned. Now, though, the timing was all wrong. She was acting so completely out of character, the only possible explanation was that she was on the rebound, seeking reassurance that she was still desirable. Boy, could he reassure her! But with what consequences?

He knew Sam. She would end up resenting him for taking advantage of her at a vulnerable moment. He couldn't do that to her. As crazy as it sounded, he had to wait for the woman he wanted to stop trying to seduce him. When she was herself again, when she was over Pete, he would make his feelings clear. So, General Jack O'Neill resigned himself to cold showers and frustration – for as long as it took.

* * *

The thought was driving her mad. After all these years of sexual tension, after so much frustration and longing, did Jack really no longer find her attractive? Why? Was she getting old? Sam examined herself carefully in the mirror. She wasn't twenty-five anymore. Yet, she still thought herself trim, toned, and reasonably good looking. In any case, her appearance hadn't changed much in the last year. 

O'Neill had been hurt that she'd chosen to pursue another relationship. He hid it well, but she knew from the way he put more than the necessary distance between them. It was one thing not to sit so closely, or touch her so casually. It was another thing altogether to treat her like an indifferent coworker. Jack O'Neill closed down when he was in pain. She couldn't believe that was the issue, though. When it came right down to it, he was a man. Since when did a man hold a grudge when faced with the possibility of sex?

She just couldn't make sense of it. If he'd shown any reaction at all, she might have some clue to go on, but nothing she'd said or done appeared to have any effect whatsoever. No matter how blatant she was, he was calm and collected, as though he didn't even notice her ever-escalating attempts to arouse him. Had there been no history between them – or had he even disliked her in the past – she would have expected some response, positive or negative.

Sam barely restrained her hand from striking the mirror as the revelation struck her. How irritating that she hadn't seen it before! His total lack of response told her all she needed to know. He knew what she was up to, and was turning it around on her. Jack O'Neill was plotting to make her feel insecure and unattractive. Now he was really going to pay.

* * *

Jack couldn't have been more relieved. Four days with no seduction attempts. Carter seemed to be back to her normal, cool military precision. She seemed to have remembered how to look in his direction without the bedroom eyes, and how to smile without looking as though she were ready to devour him. Oddly, that didn't decrease the number of cold showers he was taking when she was around, but then Jack had never found being around her to be good for his physical frustration levels. The woman could make 'gate diagnostic testing results sound hot. 

Yes, things were starting to get back to normal. Carter even invited the boys over for dinner and a movie – the four of them, just like old times. Jack hesitated to accept at first, not out of fear of the seductress reemerging – he was pretty sure Sam had gotten it out of her system – but because he wasn't sure he trusted himself. Having made up his mind to tell her how he felt when she seemed a bit more stable, he was now finding himself anxious to get it over and done. That was just his way: decide on a course of action and follow through. He'd never been one to hesitate. A few beers and a private moment, and he might find himself blurting out some cornball confession of undying love.

Yet, he didn't want to do anything to discourage her return to normalcy. _Safety in numbers_, he told himself. Daniel and Teal'c would be there. He was going to have a hard enough time opening up to Sam; there was absolutely no danger of him spilling his guts with Teal'c and Daniel present.


	2. To want me

"No, Daniel, it's just a headache. I'll be fine. Sorry to cancel on such short notice. I already called the General. He was relieved, actually. He said he was really tired. He was going to go home and straight to sleep. You'll call Teal'c for me? Thanks, Daniel. Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam rubbed her hands together in evil glee, relishing the cliché gesture out of spite. Her plan was right on track. Before this night was over, General Jack O'Neill was going to be forced to admit that he wanted her, and then she was going to put him out on his ass.

Carefully, she made sure the scene was set. She turned on all the lights, set the rented movies atop the VCR, laid bags of microwave popcorn on the counter, and laid out four place settings on the table. Surveying the scene, she smiled with approval and headed for the shower. He would be here any minute.

Sam stripped and stepped under the hot spray. She saturated her hair, then turned off the tap and waited. He was prompt as usual; she only had to wait a minute before the knock came. "Just a second," she called. She pulled on her red satin robe and waited a moment for the water on her skin to penetrate the fabric, causing it to conform and cling to her body as she walked.

Carter flung the door wide open. "Sir!" she said with feigned surprise. "You're an hour early."

Jack wasn't sure he could harness the power of speech when confronted with a near-naked, pleasantly damp Carter. He forced his eyes up to hers and away from the rivulets of water working their way from her hair down the front of her robe. "You said seven." Hurray! He'd managed it. He was very proud.

"I said eight."

"Did not"

"Pity Daniel isn't here to carry on this witty repartee with you. Which he would be, except that I said eight."

"Well, I'd come back, but what am I supposed to do with all this food?'

Sam suppressed an evil smirk. She'd asked him to pick up the food, enough for three hearty humans and a bottomless Jaffa, in order to ensure he couldn't back out at the last minute. "Come on in. You can use the oven to keep it warm. I'll be back in just a minute."

Jack followed her into the house, doing as instructed. Alone in the kitchen, he argued with himself. Should he leave and come back? No. What would she think? _You're tough_, he told himself, _you can handle this._ Suddenly, he found himself smiling as the absurdity of the situation struck him. He never thought he'd have a hard time _not_ talking about feelings.

"What are you smiling about?" Carter asked him as she re-entered the kitchen. He was surprised to see that she still hadn't dressed, but had only retrieved a towel with which to dry her hair.

"Nothing," he answered too quickly.

"So," Sam began, leaning back against the counter top, "we have an hour. Any ideas what you'd like to do?"

Oh, did he have ideas! And none of them wholesome. Jack's mind scrambled for an allowable alternative. "TV?" he shrugged.

"Fine." Sam walked into the living room and picked up the remote. She stood near the couch, flipping through the channels with the remote control. Jack settled in the far corner of the couch and waited. "Nothing grabs me," she noted, tossing the remote to him. As he began to scroll through the channels, she lowered herself to the opposite end of the couch, curling her legs onto the empty cushion between them. She resisted the urge to adjust her robe as it fell open to mid-thigh.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Carter getting comfortable. Consciously, he chose the program most likely to detract from a sexually-charged situation. There was nothing romantic about SpongeBob SquarePants. He'd seen the episode playing half a dozen times already and was actually starting to find it marginally annoying, but that was a good thing at this juncture.

Sam stretched languidly, her toes brushing against Jack's thigh.

Jack refused to take his eyes off the television. "Uhh, Carter? Aren't you going to get dressed?"

"It's a quirk of mine. I don't like to dress until I'm totally dry." She rubbed her right foot against the calf of her left leg, her robe falling further away.

O'Neill tried to concentrate on the cartoon. Squidward was crying out in frustration, his bloodshot eyes popping out of his skull. Jack could relate. Carter bent over and began rubbing her calf with her fingers, the neckline of her robe opening dangerously wide.

"Uhh, Carter?" he said again. "How long does it normally take you to dry off?"

"Well, I wouldn't be wet right now if it weren't for you."

"Huh?" He turned towards her automatically, regretting it instantly. She was smiling; she was beautiful. Too beautiful.

"This robe. It's rather damp. If you weren't here..."

"Oh!" He turned quickly back to the screen.

"My calves are still killing me from all the climbing we did on PXC-373 the other day. Sir, I don't suppose I could convince you to work the muscles out for me a bit?"

Jack sprang up off the couch. "You know what, Carter? I'm starving. Let's eat now. Then when Daniel and Teal'c get here, you can get dressed, and I'll massage your calves while they eat, okay?"

Sam smirked at his retreating figure. "You get the food," she called after him, "and I'll go get dressed."

* * *

_Ouch,_ Jack thought. Sam wasn't making this easy. He knew her actions were innocent – at least she wasn't coming on to him! – but she was making this difficult nonetheless. She returned to the table in a backless green sundress, the hem reaching just below her knees. One glance confirmed there was no way she was wearing a bra, and considerably more leg was on display than he was used to seeing. 

Acknowledging his silent appraisal, she explained, "This is the only thing I have that exposes my calves. I'm going to hold you to that offer when we're done."

"Of course," Jack said casually, while his stomach tied itself in knots. Where the hell was Daniel? The man was perpetually early to team get-togethers, always eager to help get things ready. Jack was rapidly approaching cold shower territory, and he needed a human buffer _now_.

* * *

Sam did her best to converse naturally over dinner. Her companion wasn't exactly cooperating, but she really didn't mind at all. She delighted in every small indication that she was getting to him. He was trying not to show it, but she knew him too well. His tense posture, the set of his jaw, the tone of his voice all told her he was struggling to maintain his image of control. 

"Leave the dishes for later," Sam instructed, rising from the table. "I believe you owe me a massage."

Jack watched her walk away – in the wrong direction. "Carter?"

"In here!"

"Are you coming out?"

"Stop hollering and come here, would you please?"

Jack walked down the hall and found her on her bed, stretched out on her side. He leaned against the doorjamb to her room, with no intention of setting foot over the threshold. "What are you doing?"

"You said you were going to rub my calves."

"On the couch!" he protested.

She looked at him with an expression of disappointment. "I can't stretch out on that couch. It's too short."

She carefully schooled her expression into one of innocuous expectation. They stared at one another until she knew she'd won. She rolled over on her stomach, tapping her toes against the mattress in silent encouragement for him to get started. Wondering exactly how crazy he was, Jack entered the room and began to work his hands over her lower legs.

Sam sighed contentedly. "That's definitely helping."

"I'm glad to be of service," he muttered.

"That feels so good," Sam moaned.

"I'm starting to worry about Daniel and Teal'c," Jack said anxiously. "They should be here by now."

"Could do that just a little higher? Now that the pain from my calves is easing up, I realize my thighs are aching, too."

Breathing deeply for calm, Jack eased his hands under the edge of her skirt, working the muscles just above her knees.

"You have very strong hands."

_All the better to molest you with_, he thought, but wisely kept his mouth closed.

"Higher," she sighed.

Jack's hands froze. "Carter."

"Yes?" She worked to infuse her voice with a sort of sultry innocence.

"I can't."

"What? Why?" Same tone. She was pleased with the result.

"It's... not appropriate."

"It's relieving my pain. What's inappropriate about that?"

"It's not what it does to you," he growled. "It's what it does to me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I need a cold shower as it is."

Sam sat up, moving next to him. She looked down at her hands folded in her lap, carefully controlling her tone. "Are you saying you want me?"

"For chrissakes, Carter. Have you _looked_ at you?"

She couldn't help a little thrill at the admission, but it didn't turn aside the anger that brought her to this point. "Spell it out for me. I want to hear it from you."

"Yes, Carter. I want you. Which is why..."

"Get out." She interrupted, dropping all pretense and glaring at him angrily. Jack stared back at her with a look of such profound confusion that at any other time she couldn't have helped but feel sorry for him.

"What?"

"I said get out." She stood, staring down at him, and pointed out the door.

"Carter, I..."

"You've toyed with me long enough. I can't stand to look at you right now."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"I've finally seen things rationally!"

"I've toyed with _you_? This from the woman who spent the better part of the last month acting like a sex-starved sorority girl?"

"I was doing anything I could to get your attention, and you completely ignored me."

"What the hell did you expect me to do? Throw you down on the table in the commissary? Drag you into a storage closet?"

"You could have done something to let me know you still found me attractive. Instead you made me suffer. Do you have any idea how much insecurity and self-doubt you've inflicted on me?"

"Let me get this straight. You were angry with me for _not _showing how much I want you, and now you're kicking me out for _showing_ how much I want you. Is that right?"

"I'm _angry _because you hurt me!"

Jack threw his hands in the air. "How? What have I done?"

"You know exactly what you've done! And if you don't, I'm not telling you!"

"Oh. My. God." He stared at her in utter disbelief. She didn't just say that. Sam was a lot of things, but she was not one for stereotypical female histrionics. "Who are you and what have you done with Samantha Carter?"

"I _am_ Samantha Carter."

"Then you _are_ psychotic."

Sam turned away. "You've ignored me, rejected me, and now insulted me. Are you done yet?"

"Sam..." Okay, so maybe she was dangerously crazy right now, but he still didn't want to hurt her. "I was just trying to give you some space. I thought – no, I _think_ – that your breakup with Pete has really hurt and confused you, and you aren't exactly yourself. I don't want you to risk your career just because you're on the rebound."

She turned back to face him. "From Pete?" she asked incredulously. "You think I'm on the rebound from Pete?"

He didn't answer, but Jack's stare accused her. Sam was stunned. Of course, he would think so. She'd broken up with Pete the day she realized she could never love him the way she loved Jack, but he would have no way of knowing that, would he? For all he knew, she was suffering the loss deeply. Samantha Carter could not believe what an idiot she was. She didn't know what to say. She decided that _I'm sorry_ was a good place to start.

As he stood staring at her, Jack wished he knew what was going on in her head. He could see the emotions flash across her face, but couldn't imagine what was behind them. Until she hung her head and apologized. Then he knew she'd come to the realization, that she saw how she'd been acting. Irresistible force moved him forward to wrap his arms around her, to comfort her. "It's okay, Carter. Heartbreak makes people do strange things."

Sam suddenly became aware of how tired and emotional she really was. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in the wonderful, rich scent of him. Nothing brought her comfort like being in his arms. Perhaps it was a programmed response, having sought comfort there only in the most dire situations. She didn't care; it was a wonderful place to be. "You don't understand," she mumbled into his shirt. "I only dated Pete because I was on the rebound from you. And I left him because of you. That's why it made me so crazy when I thought you didn't want me anymore."

Jack pulled back to look into her eyes. He found the truth there. He always could. "It's time for things to change, isn't it?"

"I'm tired of locked rooms and regulations, Jack."

"Jack?" he asked in surprise.

"Jack." Sam said his name decisively, possessively, as she laid her head back on his shoulder and laced her arms around his back.

"Sweet." He rested his chin lightly on the top of her head and pensively stared at the wall. "So, umm, Daniel and Teal'c?"

"Not coming."

He lifted her face to his and brushed her lips with a soft kiss. "Sweeter still."


End file.
